Unexpected Findings
by QueenxStardust
Summary: In an attempt to understand his youngest brother, Darrel Curtis heads to a bookstore, in search of Gone With The Wind. What he finds, however, is far more valuable.
1. Chapter 1

Trying to understand his sensitive brother, Darrel Curtis heads to the bookstore in an attempt to read Gone with the Wind

Brightly lit, the bookshop stood out from the usually dark street. Darry stepped into it hesitantly, still dirty from work, feeling out of place. Abandoned, with a single girl sitting out the counter, not noticing the nearly silent jingle of bells as he stepped through the thin doorway, the bookshop still seemed cozy and he navigated the thin shelves, searching.

As if out of nowhere, the girl popped up. "Hello," she smiled, her voice laced with the peppy friendliness of anyone paid to serve others. "Can I help you find something, sir?"

"Uh…" awkwardly, he tried to think of the author. "Gone with the Wind? You heard of it?"

"Of course!" she exclaimed, hurrying over to another shelf. "Which version? Would you like a hardback copy, a soft copy, a used copy—"

"Used, please." He requested, embarrassed.

Nodding professionally, she stood on a small ladder and pulled it off. She was tall, but the shelves reached the ceiling. Pulling it out, she nodded. "Here you go sir," she handed it to him and smiled. "Anything else?"

Accidentally bumping into the stand-alone shelf next to him, he took it, thanking her, flustered. "Can I… buy this?" he asked hesitantly.

The girl exuded confidence. "Of course sir! Right over here to the counter." Leading the way, she grinned at him.

Searching in his pockets for the money, he frowned. He could've sworn he had enough. "I'm sorry—I'll put it back—I don't think I have enough."

"You don't need it!" she chirped brightly.

"What?" he stared at her, wondering if she had miscounted and thought he had it. "No, I'm sorry ma'am—"

"Do you want to sit here for a little and read the first chapter? If you give me a dime, you can sit right here next to me and read for a bit. And if you have a dime tomorrow, you can come over again and read more. Lots of people do it. As long as you're real careful and don't tear the pages, it's sure fine. That's why we got the chairs here. Lemme just write down your name."

"Are you—sure it's alright?" he wondered.

"Sure! What's your name, sir?"

"Darrel Curtis."

"Got a dime?"

He dug in his pockets for the small coin, and handed it to her. "How long can I stay?"

"What time is it? Got anyplace to be?"

He was bewildered by her cheer and by the concept of a book store that doubled as a library.

"Not for 'bout an hour or two…" he smiled back at her, weakly. "What time does the store close?"

"Since it's a Saturday, not till nine. It's only six-thirty now. Stay until close, if you like." Gesturing towards the soft, moth-eaten arm chair, she handed him the book back. "I read the books too," she confided, her eyes sparkling. "My favorite book is There and Back Again. Have you heard of it? I've read it probably three times."

"Sounds like a real good book," he promised sincerely, sitting down. She sat back at the counter and leaned over another novel. "Are you readin' it now?"

"Naw, this is called A Tale of Two Cities. It's by Charles Dickens. I'm almost done though. I want to read one called Nausea."

"I always liked Anne of Green Gables," he offered sheepishly. "My mom used to read it a whole lot."

"You can read it here if you like. You can read as many books as you want for however long, for just a dime. One boy comes in here all the time. He's real quiet."

Darry paused. Was she talking about Ponyboy? "Really?" he asked casually. "I think my brother comes in here sometimes."

"Is your brother named Sodapop?" she asked, arching her brows. "I think he uses a fake name because he's embarrassed to come in here."

Inwardly, Darry was shocked. Was Ponyboy using Soda's name, or was Soda really coming into the shop? "I got a brother named Sodapop," he acknowledged, the book lodged open by his thumb. "Another brother named Ponyboy."

"Why's your name normal?" she teased. "I'd expect you to be named Chapstick or somethin', if you got two brothers with wild names."

"Named after my Pa," he answered shortly. Realizing the conversation was over, she turned back to her book quietly, licking her thumb, the only noise coming from her the turning of pages.

The book's spine was soft with age, and he began to read. "Scarlett O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were…." He concentrated. Reading swiftly was a skill that belonged only to Pony- and maybe to Soda.

Time passed quickly, but his pages turned slowly. Darry only made it to page forty when the girl stood up. "Oh my, it's nine already!" she trilled, jumping off to counter. "I haven't put the books back yet!"

Reaching for a long stack of books at his right hand, she deftly began to count them and organize them, running about the small store, putting them back. He caught sight of _To Kill A Mockingbird_ and _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_ as she swept them in her arms. Then, looking satisfied at the tidy counter and shelves, she brought out yesterday's newspapers and went outside, wiping down the windows so that they shone clearly. Darry, uncomfortable with watching her clean while sitting there, thanked her and got ready to leave.

"Wait!" she called, running down after him. Keys in hand, he turned, raising his brow. Had he forgotten something? "Take this," she handed him the copy of Gone With The Wind, putting it in his hands.

"But I—" he tried to protest before she cut him off.

"If you're Sodapop's brother, I know you're real trustworthy." She smiled at him. "Don't worry about it. You can come back tomorrow if you like, or just bring it back when you finish it. It's okay."

A little touched by the girl's sweetness, he squeezed her hand. "Thank you," he said, with feeling. As she turned to finish closing up the shop, he looked at her retreating back as she opened the bright shop door. "Hey," he asked suddenly, conscious that he hadn't asked before.

Questioningly, she turned towards him, silhouetted by the bright yellow of the candles and bare lightbulbs, her short hair bouncing.

"What's your name?"

Self-consciously, she pointed at herself. "I'm Julia. Nice to meet you," her sweet smile was infectious.

Climbing into the car, he headed home, thinking of an excuse to give to Sodapop and Pony for his lateness. Unable to figure out why he didn't want the kids to know where he'd been, he finally decided on the almost-truth: he'd met a girl and lost track of time. He should've been home a while ago. Nevermind that the girl he'd met was probably closer to Soda's age than his own, he just didn't want to deal with their curious gazes when he explained he'd been reading.

Before the death of their parents, he'd often enjoyed reading. After, however, there wasn't time. He was too busy, too tired, and too sad. But after Johnny and Dally had died, Pony'd gone funny on them, and trying to understand his little brother was the least he could do. Especially with Soda being brokenhearted over Sandy, and with Two-Bit's drunkenness and Steve's dad kicking him out every other week, the last thing he needed was an inquisition. Sighing at the very thought of seeing at least three familiar faces at home, he drove slowly. The engine rumbled: he'd have to get Soda or Steve to check it out for him.

He turned onto their street and parked the car. When he walked in the house, only Pony, Soda, and Steve lay sprawled across the couch. "Where's Curly?" he asked.

"Left a coupla hours ago," Steve answered, chocolate cake spread across his mouth. "Said to thank you."

Nodding, he showered and changed. But by the time he got back, only Steve and Pony were draped on the furniture. "Where'd Sodapop head off too?" he asked, sitting down on his favorite chair – the one that had been his father's.

"In bed already. Bet he's exhausted," Steve hooted. "While we were closin' up shop tonight, coupla girls came by. All over him, man."

"Not his fault he's got a girl," Pony answered sullenly.

Aiming a kick in his direction, Steve scowled. "Smartass kid. Watch your mouth. Hey, where's Two-Bit at tonight?"

"Prob'ly got other things to do," Darry answered, sending a mock glare over. "Maybe cleanin' his house… hangin' out with his sister…"

"More likely puttin' away a six-pack or two, or hangin' out with Kathy or Marcia."

"You know that Soc girl ain't really gonna date him," Ponyboy piped up. "He's too greasy for her. Sides, he said tonight that he's goin' to bed early. Him and Tim Shepard went off and got in a fight at Buck Merrill's place. He told me so."

"Just 'cause you can't get no Soc girl to notice you ain't mean the rest of us don't," Steve grinned, showing off his crooked smile. "What about you, Dare?"

"Too busy for girls," he answered shortly, not willing to talk about his night unless he had to. It seemed like something private, a place he could go after work, to try and understand Pony. The house was always rowdy with at least two kids there at all times, but that quiet little shop had been peaceful, tranquil, with nothing but a tall, cheerful girl, reading in the corner. No chocolate cake, no Mickey Mouse, no nothing but quiet. Something he missed. "Sodapop has got the right idea though. Steve, you sleepin' here tonight?"

"It's not even ten yet, Superman, might head down to Buck's, or go hunt some action."

"I didn't ask for your plans, little buddy, I said, you sleepin' here?" he asked impatiently.

"Hey, Dare, I ain't little," protesting, Steve wiped his mouth roughly. "Prob'ly though," shamefaced, he admitted.

"Alright, you know where the blankets are. Pony, not too late now." he reprimanded the fourteen year old, laying solemnly on the couch.

"Sure thing, Darry." Pony answered slowly, watching the commercial avidly.

With that, he turned and closed his bedroom door, thinking about the book he'd begun to read. It didn't seem so strange now, Pony's love of books. The book was interesting. He wanted to go back and keep reading it. Pulling the book out of the deep pockets of his jeans, hung neatly in his closet, he crawled into bed, reading by the light of the single streetlamp outside his window.

Closing the book, he realized that it was nearly midnight. Grateful that he had finished the chapter, and even more grateful that he didn't have work until nine-thirty in the morning, else he'd be exhausted, Darry turned over and slept.

Sun streamed through his window, and as he groaned, getting up, Darry stretched out, checking his watch. It was only eight in the morning, but he felt better-rested than he had since Pony and Johnny had disappeared. Dressing quickly and walking into the living room, he was amused to see Steve sprawled out, in the same position he'd been last night, snoring away.

First thing, he checked the icebox. They had a few eggs, but he'd have to send Pony off to get some more groceries today. He slammed the pan on the stove and began to fry the eggs, knowing that neither Steve nor Soda could sleep through that, combined with the smell of breakfast. Pony probably wouldn't wake up for a while, but it was a Saturday, and Darry was willing to be lenient.

"What's for breakfast here, Superdope?" Steve wandered in the kitchen, chocolate from last night still across his face.

"Call me that again, kiddo, and there ain't gonna be no breakfast for you," Darry threatened.

Surprisingly, Ponyboy walked into the kitchen next. "Hey, Dare," he yawned. "You're still here?" he turned to Steve, feigning surprise.

Steve threw a half-hearted punch in his direction, which Pony easily blocked.

"What's up with Sodapop?" Darry asked, concerned. "You're usually the last up."

"He's real tired," Ponyboy bit his lip. "It's okay though, he doesn't have work until later."

"Not like me. Speakin' of which, I gotta go in soon, so hurry up with that grub, Darry."

"Soon as I see that rent money of yours, buddy," Darry teased, handing him a plate of fried eggs. Steve wolfed down the hot food, and grinned at Darry.

"If I thought for a second you're bein' serious, you know you'd have your rent money and my suitcase on you in less than an hour." Steve smirked, putting his dish in the sink and wandering out.

"Alright," Darry handed the spatula to Ponyboy. "See you later, Steve!" he called. "I'm gonna go check on Sodapop."

Ponyboy nodded, immersing himself in making his eggs as round and perfect as possible.

The door ajar, Darry knocked anyway. Soda turned towards him, wide-awake and looking as if he had just finished crying.

Heart aching, he sat next to his kid brother. "What's up, kiddo?" he asked softly, even though he already knew the answer.

"Nothin'." Soda lied, beginning to cry again. "Ain't nothin' wrong, Dare, just go grab some breakfast. Don't want you to be late."

Frustrated, not knowing what to say, Darry rubbed his shoulder. "If you ever wanna talk to any of us, little buddy, you know we're here, okay?" he whispered to his brother. "Me an' Pony and Steve. Even Two-Bit, if you can find him sober."

Sniffing, Sodapop forced a grin and got out of bed. "Think I'm just gonna take a shower and maybe take a walk," he decided.

"Good idea," Darry praised him. "You want some breakfast?"

"Nah… not hungry. I'll pick up some fresh milk and eggs and chocolate icing at the market though, before work."

"What do you think Pony's gonna do?"

"Homework, maybe head down to the Ribbon," he shrugged. "Pone'll be okay."

Darry nodded, and went back into the kitchen, where Pony supplied him with two slightly burnt eggs, the way he liked them. Oddly touched by what was probably Pony's automatic reaction, that meant nothing to him, Darrel gave his little brother a hug. "Thanks, Ponyboy," he said, with feeling.

Looking at him as if he were crazy, Pony nodded.

"You and Soda be on your best behavior now," he chided, checking his watch. Stuffing his face full of egg, he finished in less than a minute. "I'll be home late tonight. I'll see you later."

Walking into the cloudy, dim light, he frowned. The dawn had been bright, but storm clouds quickly began scudding in. Hopefully it wouldn't rain too much.

Taking a deep breath, Darry walked into the door of the bookshop, smiling at the girl, serenely reading at the counter. Putting a dime on the counter, he sat down and began to read.

After an hour though, he felt as though he should say something. "So, was it busy today?"

Looking up, slightly startled by his interruption of the silence, she turned and nodded happily. "Not too busy, because of the clouds, but I sold ten books today, which is pretty good for a Saturday. Sundays are usually better for sales."

"That's great," he supplied awkwardly.

Noticing his discomfort, she put her book down completely. "So, where do you work?"

"I roof houses, mostly," he answered. "It ain't much, but it's somethin'."

"Hey, it's great that you're so strong. When I'm not here, I work at a bakery. I used to be a waitress, but it was too far from my house."

"Do you walk home?" he asked, surprised.

It was her turn to look uncomfortable. "Yeah… I usually worked doubles or triples there, too, so it was real tirin'."

"Where do you live?" he asked, his innate protective instinct rising up. Since he'd become guardian, his entire nature had become more paternal.

"Only 'bout two miles from here," she looked thoughtful. "Maybe three, at the most."

"Do you have anybody to pick you up? Do you ride a bus?" sitting straighter, he looked at her.

"No…" awkwardly, she offered: "It's just me and my sister and my brother. Diane is twelve and Jimmy is fifteen. Our mom isn't around much, you know?"

Suddenly, in complete understanding, he nodded empathetically. "Yeah, it's me and my two brothers. Our parents died a while back. Gotta take care of them."

"So you understand! I'm glad- oh, not glad about your parents, but it's always nice to have someone who understands where you're coming from," she corrected herself, turning a little red.

"No, it's okay," he smiled comfortingly. "But what about your siblings?"

"Jimmy takes care of the house- there are usually a couple kids by to keep them company. And the neighbors are real nice. I pick up Diane from her friend's house after work."

"What time do you get home?" their books lay forgotten as the pair bonded.

"Well, I run real fast, so usually before eleven. It's only real bad on Friday and Saturday nights, because then Socs are ridin' about the neighborhoods. Sometimes I'll see some of the Shepard gang around, and they're real friendly."

"You ever need a ride, just let me know," Darry urged her. "My brothers're both old enough to handle themselves for a few hours without me. I figure I can spare a little time away from 'em."

She shook her head. "Oh, no! I feel awful for telling you that- I shouldn't've said that! You don't gotta do anything for me, Darrel!"

"Darry," he corrected her. "I can take you home tonight if you like, get a feel for the route. In case you ever need it, you dig me?"

Flustered by his kindness, she smiled. "No, don't do that, don't worry—but thank you. It's nice having you here. Even if I don't talk to the people who read as much, it's always nice to have some company, you know?"

Nodding, he grinned and patted the book. "I like bein' here too," he promised, leaning back and continued to read, glad of the cozy atmosphere and the brightly colored book spines peeking at him like old buddies he hadn't seen since high school.


	2. Chapter 2

After his fourth time visiting Julia, she hesitantly asked for a ride back to her house. Perfectly amenable to that, Darry told her it wouldn't be a problem.

However, that night, just before she began to clean the windows, Tim Shepard walked in, confident and easily.

"Hello, Tim!" Julia chirped, completely out of awe with the fearsome gang leader.

He barely seemed to notice her. "Hey, Jules. What's happenin'?" he began to peruse the non-fiction section.

"I'm good. Jimmy's still a little roughed up, but he went to school today. What're you looking for?"

"Book for Angela," he answered curtly. "Some book- this one."

"Okay, sure! Let me just ring it up for you."

Tim, finally noticing Darry in the corner, nodded at him. "Hey, Curtis. How's the kid and Sodapop doin'?"

"Real good, thanks for askin'. How is Curly doin'?" Darrel asked sociably, fascinated that Tim had come in often enough for Julia to know him by name.

"Well as he could," Tim shrugged. "Still pissed 'bout missin' the rumble. Hey, thanks for lettin' him crash at your place the other night."

"Don't mention it, buddy."

"Thanks," he rubbed Julia's head in the fondest motion Darry had ever seen him make. As he left, he acknowledged Darry with a small wave.

"So, how do you know Tim?" Julia asked at the same time Darry demanded: "What're you doin' that gets you around thugs like him?"

"Oh, Tim and Angela came in here all the time last year. He actually helped me out with something really important last year! He's always been real sweet to me." Julia explained.

"I can't imagine Tim doin' anythin' like that," Darry confessed, trying to conjure the image.

"I had to pick up my brother from someplace, once, and Tim gave me some clothes. Then, he walked us home, and when some guys tried to rough up Jimmy, he protected us," she smiled fondly. "They managed to cut my hair—it was real frightenin'."

The mental picture drove him insane. Tall and slender with short dark hair, Julia was the picture of a bookish young girl, sweet and not at all greasy. Imagining her getting jumped infuriated him – and she still walked home.

"But tell me, how do you know him?"

"Tim's leader of a gang," Darry answered, watching her expression change.

"Oh no, you must've misheard! Tim protected us from the gang members. He's a nice guy, really!"

Amazed at her ignorance, he asked: "When was this?"

Thinking about it, she answered carefully. "Why… not too long ago! Right after that poor fellow, Bob, I think his name was, got killed. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"Yeah," Darry answered tightly.

"Oh, no, have I upset you? Were you his friend?" she fretted, standing by him. "I didn't mean to bring up such a sensitive subject- but the timing- I figured that's a memorable event…" she trailed off, concerned.

"I wasn't friends with him," he was completely thrown off guard.

"Oh, it was around the same time as your brother was in the newspaper!" she exclaimed, going over to the periodicals. "I remember seeing his picture in the newspaper… him and two other boys. I should've remembered – he doesn't look like Sodapop much, but he and you are the spitting image of one another." Looking satisfied with herself, she opened up the book. "Speaking of which, Sodapop came in today, did you know? We had a lovely conversation."

"Did he seem okay to you?" he asked abruptly.

Thinking about it, she answered slowly. "He's always been rather quiet and sad," While that was generally completely untrue about his brother, in the past few months, Soda's silent episodes sometimes lasted for hours before he cheered up and reverted to his usual self. It was as if Sodapop Curtis's fizz had gone out. "And lately, he's been coming in less often, which I don't think is very good. We used to practice his reading together. For some reason he thinks he's dumb. You better make sure he gets out of his rut," she scolded, grabbing the newspaper to wipe the windows. "He's such a kind boy."

Darry couldn't agree more, as he watched her clean windows, cheerful, humming to herself. He wondered how old she was, how often she was at the shop. Especially since she seemed to know Soda pretty well. When she came inside, he asked her.

"I'm eighteen." She answered, putting back the supplies and sweeping around the shelves. "I come in at eight to get the shop ready and close at nine-thirty. I work every day except Monday. On Monday I work at the bakery, and I go in around six, usually, to open up, and close at ten."

He looked at her. "So you don't go to school?"

Looking abashed, she shook her head. "School don't pay the bills. I like my job. I didn't take to school real well. This is a real good job. I like the bakery too, because I get to take home the stale stuff."

"Do you ever get tired?" he asked amazed. He had off on Sundays.

"I usually take off every other Tuesday. The job at the bakery gets real tirin' sometimes, you know?" she swept the debris out. "Mr. Harrison don't mind. He likes me real well, and he knows I do a good job and love the books. He always gives me a little extra bonus for the new year and my birthday. He thinks I don't notice, but he's real sweet."

"So, why do you need a ride home tonight?" he asked her casually, helping her sort the books on the higher shelves so she didn't have to carry the step-ladder around.

"Diane is home sick, and I need to get home and make dinner. Jimmy got into a fight the other day too, little rascal," she sighed. "Tim brought him home and told me he helped him out. Poor Jimmy. We live in a not too good neighborhood," she confessed, leaning towards him, eyes serious as if she were confessing a secret. "On my Tuesdays, I try to do work 'round the house and make it easier on Ma and Diane and Jimmy, but there's a lot to do."

"What do they do?"

Looking surprised, she answered almost indignantly. "Their schoolwork! They both have a chance at goin' to college."

It was the same with her siblings as it was with Ponyboy.

"When do you have off next?" he heard himself saying, almost not realizing what was coming out of his mouth.

"Next Tuesday," she answered. "Today's Wednesday, right? Yes, of course. Next Tuesday is my day off. Why?"

"Would you want me to come over? I'm real good with houses. Guttin', roofin', floorin', everythin' you can think of."

Shocked, she shook her head. "Oh, no! You don't have to do that at all! It's real nice of you to even drive me home! I don't wanna rope you into doin' more for me. Look at you right now! Doin' my job!"

"I want to," he smiled at her, and meant it. "I'd love to help you out. We're buddies now, ain't we?"

The reassurance of friendship seemed to startle her, and she stepped into him, whirled around and apologized. But then a smile broke across her face. "Sure… but this means I gotta do somethin' for you. How about you bring Sodapop and your brother 'round for dinner? I can cook real good, and I'll have lots of stale cakes and pies," the idea seemed to excite her.

Darry thought about it, and after consideration, nodded affirmatively. "I think that'd be real nice," he grinned. "You ready to go?"

"Let me just lock up," she flurried about, pushing in her stool, putting the step-ladder in the closet, turning off the lights and locking the door.

Walking next to her into the car, he realized just how tall and thin she was. She was all angles and bones. If she weren't so tall, he would've called her tiny. She was the tallest girl he'd ever met – close to six feet tall. It was odd, not having to crane his neck to look at a girl. She was probably about Pony's height.

She sat in the car, the broken seatbelt hanging loosely. Noticing, she didn't comment and merely sat back, getting comfortable.

Adjusting her long, khaki skirt, she smiled. "Thanks a lot for this. You've been so nice, and we hardly know one another! You must be a great brother."

The image of Pony on the floor, his face raw with the shock of being pushed over, flashed through his mind. "No," he answered shortly. "But where do you live?

Directing him down the road, she rolled down the window, it rushing through her hair. As the heavy mass flapped, he noticed an entire section in the back left that was completely crooked and uneven. His anger surprised him. Like she just pointed out, he barely knew her. It was just hair.

But the idea of this girl getting jumped was painful. She was such a nice kid.

The thin wrist tentatively tapped him on the shoulder. "Darrel," she smiled. "You were supposed to turn left there."

"Shit, sorry!" he apologized. "Can I turn anywhere else?"

"Yes, of course," she was completely unruffled. "Just up here, and loop back. My house is the first on the corner. You can't miss it."

And miss it he didn't. The dilapidated house seemed to hang slightly to the left, the door ajar, with dull light streaming out.

"Come inside," she invited. "You should meet Jimmy. He's probably watching Mickey on the teevee. He loves bein' sick, because if he ain't the laziest fifteen year old I've ever met, I don't know who is."

Darry smiled at the idea. Ponyboy fit well into that category. It'd be nice to have Ponyboy spread out and make some more friends. At least he and Randle were getting along better now.

"I'm home!" she singsonged. A single room that doubled as a kitchen and family room with a large table was spotless, but worn. The walls seemed even more crooked on the inside.

A thumpthumpthumpthump shook the walls as her younger brother came barreling down. "Hey, sis," he nodded at Darry, and stuck out his hand.

Much taller than his sister, and almost as thin, Jimmy was easily recognizable as part of Tim's crew. Darry was sure he'd seen the kid wandering around town with Curly before.

"Darry," he introduced himself as Julia began to bustle around the kitchen.

"Jimmy," the kid acknowledged, and walked over to Julia. "You makin' soup? Diane's asleep."

"I can make you dinner if you like. Darrel, would you like somethin' to eat?" she asked him.

"Nah, I gotta get back to the kids anyway," Darry answered, wondering who would be at the house this time.

"You sure? I'm sure they'll be fine. You aren't hungry? It'll be but five minutes." She tempted him, smiling sweetly.

Deciding to accept the offer, Darry sat down, listening to Jimmy chatter on about school, about Angela Shepard, about this new film he saw, and about the test he'd been accused of cheating on.

"What test was it?"

"It was an English paper," he admitted sheepishly. "Mr. Parker said I made the whole thing up, an' that it weren't plausible for non-fiction! Whatever the hell that means."

"Don't swear," she reprimanded him, pouring prepackaged broth into a large pot, and reaching into the fridge and pouring the remainder of another pot into it. "I'll go have a conference with him if you like, sweetheart."

"I'm gonna fail if you don't!" Jimmy replied earnestly.

"Of course I'll do it then. Offer Darrel a drink."

"You want somethin' to drink?" Jimmy asked casually.

"I'm okay," he declined politely.

"Give him a glass of water," Julia commanded, turning from the pot. "Sorry, it's nothing but chicken soup with some carrots and celery. Next time you come, I'll make sure to make a great one. Jimmy, we got to have this place spotless by Tuesday, the Curtis family is coming over for dinner. Darrel here is gonna help us with the gutters, isn't that lovely of him?" Beaming a smile in Darry's direction, she began to ladle now-hot soup into bowls, handing one to him and the other to Jimmy.

"Get some bread," Jimmy commanded, and Julia turned, pulling bread out of the cupboard.

"Say please," she chided him.

"Please," he mumbled, shooting an embarrassed glance at Darry, who smiled encouragingly.

"So, there's a party goin' on at Buck's—"

"Not on a school night, I hope. And I hope those awful bullies won't be there either, look at that huge bruise." While she clucked over him like a mother hen, Darry spooned the broth into his mouth. It was actually decent.

Glancing at Jimmy sideways, he checked out the kid. Greased-back hair, a shiner, and a crooked smile. This kid was a greaser, by the book, down to his dirty jeans. Julia, however, seemed to be the picture of normalcy, with a khaki skirt and a white button-up shirt, her hair fluffed and sans-makeup.

He wondered what the sister looked like.

Realizing it was past ten, he stood. "I'm sorry to leave so abruptly…" he began, but she shook her head.

"You go now, it's late! You need to get plen'y of sleep! Ain't all play and no work here, so we know. Speaking of which, you should go to sleep…" she continued, talking to Jimmy as Darry walked out.

Driving home, he sighed, exhausted. It had been a full day, but he genuinely liked being around Julia. Losing track of time was quickly becoming a habit of his, and the boys were beginning to wonder. Absently, he managed to get home, his mind off in the clouds.

Tonight, it was just Soda and Pony. Two-Bit lay, dead drunk and passed out on the floor. He'd prob'ly get up and leave in a few hours, and the kids had thrown him a blanket. "Hey boys," he began.

Shutting off the television, they looked at him curiously, knowing something was happening.

"I know I've been absent lately, and it's because I've met a girl."

Soda hooted and Pony blushed. "Go, Dare!" Sodapop cheered.

Rolling his eyes at the childishness of it, he corrected them. "No, just a friend. Her name's Julia, and we're havin' dinner at her house next Tuesday."

"Julia from the book store?" Sodapop asked, while at the same time, Pony wondered: "Julia who used to go to our school?"

"Yes, and I guess so," he shrugged. "We're becomin' real fast friends, and I'm gonna help her out with some housework."

"How do you know her?" Ponyboy eyed him.

"I went in the bookstore," Darry confessed.

Sodapop's eyes went huge. "You been… readin' in there, Superman?" his tentative question confirmed it. He was truly the one going into the bookstore.

"Yeah, readin' Gone with the Wind. Figured Pony likes it so much, I might as well try it," he admitted. Pony's thinning face went wide with pleasure and surprise. "But we're buddies now. I want you two on the best behavior, then, all right?"

Growing into his new body was awkward for Pony, but Darry saw that he'd be a wide guy, and getting used to his rapidly maturing body was hard for him. Always a late bloomer, Pony'd figured he'd never grow up by now, used to being in his brother's shadows.

Darry, the athlete, the mature one, even years ago. And Soda, the handsome one, the charming one. But Pony was quickly growing into his own, the dreamy intellectual, always lost in another world.

"You're… you're really readin' it, Dare?" Ponyboy asked, almost not daring to imagine it. The imagine of his big brother sitting and reading was almost foreign to him – he hadn't seen it in years.

"Yeah, I am. On page two hundred already," he admitted with pleasure. Despite his father-figure role, even he needed reassurance, and it was nice to be validated, even to his kid brother.

His face shone, and Sodapop made a confession of his own. "I know her. I go to the store sometimes to read, too. It was hard at first, but she teaches me the words I dunno." The way the admission left his lips seemed to be almost painful, and guilt constricted in Darry's chest as he thought of all the times Soda had called himself stupid, not seeking validation, but as if understanding a deeply inherent part of him.

He thought of what Julia had said. "You ain't stupid, there, little buddy," he promised his handsome brother. "Not by a long shot. You're just different. Readin' to read is a shot better than readin' for a grade."

"You think?" Pony asked timidly, and Darry thought of all the time's he'd criticized Ponyboy for reading too much, or watching too many movies, and he wrapped his brother in a hug, nearly choking the boy.

"I really and truly think, Pone," he promised. "Now, lemme know what this drunk mess is doin' here," he nudged Two-Bit with his shoe. Not responding, Two-Bit just snored more deeply, refusing to move.

"I'll get him a blanket," Soda grinned, going to get the spare from the closet.

"Careful he don't leak his fumes into it," Pony warned. "We get that blanket near a light, it's liable to bust into flames right in front of us."

"Aw," Soda grinned. "You could use it for a science experiment, Pone, and get an A plus in your class. How many drinks does it take Two-Bit Mathews to get good and solid drunk."

"Don't think I've seen the kid without a bottle in his hands for a good month," Darry interrupted the playful banter seriously.

"And I don't think none of us have been good for the past couple months," Pony sassed, a little bit of real resentment flashing in his eyes. Not at his older brother, or at Two-Bit, but at the situation. At life.

"I guess we oughta go to bed now, then, Pone," Sodapop draped the blanket over their friend carefully. "Night, Dare."

"Night, boys," Darry toed Two-Bit again, who groaned quietly, shut off the lights, heading to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

The incessant clanging that seemed to follow Two-Bit wherever he went was starting to really irritate Darry.

"Two-Bit!" he roared, leaping out of bed, ready to wring his buddy's neck.

Steve and Two-Bit stood in the kitchen, banging pots on the ground like two-year olds. What they were doing there in the wee hours of the morning, Darry didn't know or care. Steve had probably wandered in and woken up Two-Bit, and Darry was too sleepy to bother with pretending patience.

"What in the hell do you think you're doin'!" Darry burst at them, yanking them up by their shirt collars.

"Nothin'," Steve smirked, trying to hold back drunken giggles. Letting go of the pair in disgust, he looked outside at the darkness, figuring by Steve's eyes, he hadn't gone to bed yet. Two-Bit held the beer in his hand.

"Beer for breakfast?" he sighed, trying to control his temper. "And dinner and dessert, I s'pose." Clenching his hands, he counted to ten. "If you don't get outta this goddamn house in ten seconds, I'll skin the both of ya," Darry unclenched his hands and waited for the pair to scatter.

"Might make Two-Bit a sight prettier," Steve cackled, grabbing a bit of Two-Bit's beer and chugging.

"Get offa that!" Two-Bit cried, outraged. "Darry, make him give it back!"

"You ain't got no problems, man, I deserve this here drink!" Steve contradicted, his dark brown eyes dilating for a second.

"What problems you got, man?" Two-Bit, fascinated by this, leaned forward, not bothering to try and snatch back the nearly-empty bottle.

"Fuckin' broads, man!" Steve swore. "Evie dumped me! Said I ain't her problem no more. Problem! What problem! My only problem is crazy broads!"

Looking at his drunken friends, Darry sighed, knowing that trying to send them home would only end in trouble. "Get in the bed, kids."

When they didn't immediately comply, he grabbed their collars and yanked them into his bed while they protested, Steve spilling the rest of the bottle, scraping the already marked up floor with their belts.

"If I hear another word outta ya'll, I won't wait till you sober up to kill you," he warned, shutting the door tightly.

Going to check on Pony and Soda, he crept in, opening the door quietly and sticking his head in.

"Hey, Dare." The muffled whisper came from beneath the thinning sheet, and Soda's head poked out, the soft hair shining in the dim, barely-there streetlight. Then, as he stretched out of the bed, more and more of Soda appeared, the long, muscular arms, the hairless torso, the dark plaid pajama pants rumpled and askew. Then, his younger brother was standing there, looking sad and cold and more than a little tired.

"They wake you up, little buddy?" he asked softly, wishing there was a way to make Soda feel better. He could understand Pony's sadness, the strange pauses and sullen silences, the books he read and movies he loved, but Soda was different. Soda had never put stock in movies or books, never been part of the same dreamland as Ponyboy. The sadness that followed Soda around was more than what bothered Pony. Sodapop had lost their parents, then Pony and Sandy, then Johnny and Dallas.

Watching Dallas Winston die was one of the hardest things Darry had ever done. The kid had been off his hinges the night Johnny died, unable to cope with losing his best friend, the kid he loved more than anyone. Acting out had been a bad idea, and Dally with a gun would never have been a good mix, but the way the policemen had shot down a bleeding kid, for stealing and running, never left his mind. Nightmares plagued them all, and the although Pony had it rough, with watching both of them die and getting sick in the bargain, Two-Bit and Soda were taking it the worst.

Darry sighed, wishing he could help his friends and brothers, and not knowing how to do so. He almost felt as though there were nothing more life could deal to him.

"Come on, I'm okay, Dare," Soda forced a smile. "They're just drunk is all. Two-Bit's always drunk, and Evie just broke up with Steve. He's takin' it real hard."

Taking part in the gang's love lives had never been on his priority, but getting Soda to talk about Evie and Steve might be the way to get him to talk about Sandy. Deep down, he knew that Soda thought he was a burden. It was half the reason he'd dropped out, and the guilt of that made him feel awful. His little brother wasn't smart the way Pony was, college smart, but the kid was sensitive and clever and kind, and as far as Darry was concerned, that was enough.

"We all got it rough there, 'specially now," Darry offered, wondering how people did this – spoke about their feelings. He was afraid of coming off harshly, of shutting Soda up.

"Yeah, but Steve… him and Evie… he thought him an' Evie would be together for a while," Soda defended lamely, probably realizing the parallel.

"Poor kid," Darry tried. "Was he real serious?"

"The two of them weren't real serious, but I think Steve liked her a whole lot more than he's lettin' on." Soda wasn't sure who he was talking about now. "She wasn't sure about him, I guess…" Looking at one another pathetically, Soda dropped the pretense and his eyes filled with big, honest tears. "I wanted to marry her, Darry. I didn't wanna tell ya, but I wanted her to be my wife. I was gonna ask her… and she told me she was pregnant."

The thought of flighty, free-spirited Sodapop trying to marry so young was painful. Immediately, he wondered if he and Pony weren't enough for him.

Shoving down the traitorous thought, he offered his sympathy. Distantly, he realized that a few months ago he would've been shouting, the way he used to holler at Pony. But since Pony's disappearance all those months ago, Darry tried to control his temper. It was his fault Pony ran off, his fault Johnny killed Bob Sheldon and ended up dead himself. It was his fault Dallas died. So instead of his immediate reaction, he slung an arm around his brother, and squeezed. "You should tell me everythin', kiddo, that's why I'm here."

Weeping into his shoulder, Sodapop explained: "I loved her a whole lot, Darry, more'n I thought you could like a girl. I wish I told her sooner. Ain't her fault, really- she didn't know how serious I was, thought I was just datin' to date. I dunno who the other guy is, but I don't blame him. Sandy was great, so great…"

There was the very essence of Sodapop Curtis: even when he was hurting, more than anything, he was the least selfish, the least bitter, the least angry person Darry could imagine. He'd had a girlfriend of his own in high school, but he broke it off with her when his parents died. Love had never crossed his mind.

Vaguely, he wondered if Ponyboy liked any girls, and if he'd have any trouble coming from the kid anytime soon.

"What about any friends?" Darry tried again. "You meet any girl friends lately? We all need to get out more, buddy."

Sodapop began to cry harder. "I'm so tired of all them girls comin' round me at work, Darry!" More angry than upset now, Soda's tears diminished, and he sat, his head against Darry's shoulder, trying to stifle his anger.

The two of them sat in silence, comfortably. Darry much preferred the quiet. Dealing with emotion and feeling was hard for him.

"Darry?"

"Yeah?"

"I go to the book shop… a lot."

"I know, buddy."

"Me and Julia… she's real tuff, Dare. I talk to her real good. I told her about Sandy. I tell her a lot of things. And she's helpin' me read. She don't look at me like a piece of meat, or tell me how dumb I am."

"You ain't dumb," Darry promised fervently. "I keep tellin' ya. Just 'cause I let you drop outta school doesn't mean I think you're dumb."

"I know," Soda lied, trying to finish. "Hey, Dare, remember that time someone brought a heater to the Dingo?"

"Yeah, some girl got shot. Wasn't that the same day Steve got jumped?" Darry tried to keep the disgust from his voice.

"That's how he learnt the bottle trick. But that girl who got shot was the girl from the bookstore."

"Julia?" Darry demanded incredulously. "You ain't serious."

"Well, I got the story from Curly Shepard. Some Tiber Streeters brought out a gun on a River King, and it got ugly fast, you dig real good?" the seriousness of the situation was not lost on Sodapop, and he continued. "She was there to pick up her little brother, who runs with Curly, and got hit in the crossfire. She got hit in the arm, acted real cool about it too, and when Tim walked her and her brother home, they got jumped by the kid's friends, but Tim beat them off and called the ambulance."

"Was she okay?" beyond incredulous, Darry released his hold on Soda, looking at him.

"Yeah. She didn't go the hospital till the next day. That's why her and Tim Shepard are buddies. She didn't say nothin', kept real cool, and Tim was impressed. He comes in a lot to the shop, just to say hi."

"How often do you go down there, Soda?" Darry asked curiously.

"Before work, durin' my breaks sometimes. Sometimes I bring lunch and we eat and read together. Listen, Darry, I'm real sorry I didn't say nothin' about readin' to you. But it makes me feel better. I feel smart there, and she's real good company. We talk."

"I'm glad you made friends," Darry squeezed him tight, his mind still on the shooting. "But lemme tell you, you ain't ever gotta be scared of talkin' to me or Pony, you dig, little buddy?"

"I guess," Sodapop sighed, and the doubt in his voice hurt Darry more than anything else could've.

"Just go back to bed, you got work in the mornin'." He stroked his brother's hair, feeling the softness, the still-wet, greaseless down of it, wishing, just once, to understand what it was like to feel things the way Pony and Soda did.

After Soda left, he began picking up around the living room – an old beer can, courtesy of Two-Bit, an old plate covered in chocolate cake, probably Steve's, and a few cigarette butts that Pony had left lying around. The kid was trying his hardest to quit, but Darry knew how hard it was for Pony, a chronic chain-smoker who lit one up whenever he felt nervous. Pony was down to five cigarettes a day, which was better than it had been, but his running had suffered a little. To make up for it, the kid went on jogs on his own time, sometimes even with Darry.

Prizing these times, Darry knew it meant that Pony was warming up to him. Especially since starting high school, Pony'd been going through the moody teenage phase. He knew he was too hard on the kid, but Darry wanted him to have every chance he didn't, every possibility that Soda didn't want.

That had been why he started going to the bookshop in the first place. To connect with Pony. To show the kid he was making an effort. Despite their arguments, he loved the boy, dearly. He knew the whole gang realized that they needed to stick together after Bob Sheldon's death. Even Steve had made an effort to get along better with Ponyboy, and Two-Bit was around more often than not.

Times like this, they needed to stick together, even more without Johnny around.

He knew it had been becoming more and more difficult for Soda to share his feelings, with him and Pony, and even Steve and Two-Bit. Steve, who Soda had been best friends with since grade school, had once commented on Soda's increasing silences at work, and Two-Bit had even once picked up on it. Granted, Two-Bit had been sober at the time, which had becoming more and more of a rarity.

Unable to sleep, with too much on his mind, Darry picked up the copy of Gone With The Wind and read by the lamplight, slowly, absorbing the words carefully. Maybe he and Pony could see the movie sometime. Pony'd gone to see it with Johnny once, ages ago.

Damn Johnny. None of them would ever get over having the kid gone. He'd been as quiet as a shadow, scared of his own shadow, hero-worshipped that hoodlum Dally, was as forgettable as an alley cat. But they couldn't forget him.

Even Dallas' absence hit them hard. Despite his criminal record, he'd been more patient with Pony than even Steve, and was always the one who watched out and never forgot about Johnny. He'd bailed Steve out of more than one fight, and usually managed to keep Two-Bit's drinking down whenever they were out. Him and Soda had run more than one rodeo together, back before Sodapop tore his ligament.

Sighing, he kept reading, waiting impatiently for dawn to come.

Hours later, Darry was sitting out front, drinking coffee and watching the sunrise.

He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, and today would be a long day. Never much of a napper, he knew tonight he'd head home and crash. But he had gotten farther in the book than he expected.

Surprisingly enough, Ponyboy was awake before Soda, coming out to sit with him on the porch. Already smoking, at that. Taking the cigarette plumb outta the kid's mouth, Darry scowled: "At least have some breakfast before you start."

"Aww, come on, Darry." Ponyboy complained. "Anyhow, Soda kept me up all night."

"How come?" he tried to ask casually, conceding enough to give back the cigarette instead of putting it out.

"He kept floppin' around. I was cold, too."

"We'll save up and get you a new jacket," Darry promised, seeing Pony in Soda's hand-me-downs. Despite his quick growth, Pony was thicker and not as tall as Soda yet, and many of Soda's old clothes were from Darry.

Even before their parents' death, they'd struggled. Darry wondered how he would've felt if he had managed to go to college. Would his parents still be alive? Or would he have just had to go through the shame of quitting school, in addition to the pain of losing his parents.

"You want some eggs?" Pony asked, yawning as he blew out some smoke.

"Sure, little buddy," he answered absentmindedly. Surprised to see the glow of pleasure on Pony's face at the endearment, he was glad to see that Pony craved his approval as much as he craved Pony's.

The scent of eggs cooking woke Soda up, and he came bounding out of the bedroom, pleased to see his two brother's sharing a quiet, comfortable morning ritual. Bouncing into the bathroom to take a shower, Soda's Elvis impression was hard not to hear.

Pony tried to smother a laugh at Soda's shaky rendition of "All Shook Up". Coupled with Steve's crashing through the bedroom door, ready to join in, Darry grinned at the sight.

Steve loudly began to sing along with Soda, as he dug through the icebox for chocolate cake. Two-Bit followed in, walking on his hands, not looking at all hungover, aside from the rumpled clothes and shadow of a beard.

Rolling his eyes, Darry grabbed his plate, wolfing down the eggs, suddenly feeling the exhaustion hit him. Shit. Taking off work wasn't an option. Taking another mug of coffee, he drank it all at once, hoping the caffeine would help.

"So, I hear you got a dinner date, Superman," Steve sat on the couch, turned on the teevee, muted it, and began on the cake, some coffee in his hand.

"I hear you don't, Stevie," Darry chewed calmly, finishing his breakfast and putting his dishes in the sink. Two-Bit's laughter was sharp and shocked.

"He got you one there, buddy!" he hooted at Steve's irritation. "Though the idea of Superdope on a date ain't quite a comfortin' image. Last time you went on a date was… probably a good two years ago!"

"It ain't a date," he responded, going into the bedroom to get dressed. "Sodapop, you seen my work boots?"

"Right outside," Pony answered for him, wandering out, sitting next to Steve, who grabbed at piece of egg with his chocolate-covered fingertips.

Quickly dressing and tying up his boots, he aimed a finger at Steve and Two-Bit. "The two of you need to lay off the beer, 'specially when you're comin' by here, got it? Make sure you get Ponyboy to school on time. I'll see ya'll later."

He ignored their weak protests, and climbed into the car. The rumble of the engine irritated him. Steve had been itching to get his hands on this thing for a while, and Darry s'posed he'd let him. It wouldn't hurt, and it could do a sure lot of good.

Driving to work slowly, he sighed. Hardly seven in the mornin', and he was off to work. At least he'd get off early.

But by the time his boss let him off, he was aching tired. He wanted to head over to the gym, but he was too sleepy. The warm weather was still chilly at night, but for the most part, spring had taken over, and he was eager for warmer nights. Deciding to skip heading to the bookshop, he made it home earlier than he had in a few weeks. Managing to crawl into bed, Darry swore to himself he'd only stay in bed until five, at the absolute latest. Soda and Steve had work until seven, and Pony had track practice.

He didn't wake up until six-thirty, when Tim Shepard came clattering into the house and knocked on the bedroom door, cool as you please, and Darry wondered wryly to himself what the point of having a lock at all.


End file.
